


Coins in a Bag

by KnightDawn



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Dark Magic, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Gren POV, Gren has feelings for Amaya but it might be one sided, M/M, Runaan POV, Runaan and Gren become bros... eventually, Violence, other feelings are definitely developing, other feelings might develop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-13 08:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16013945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightDawn/pseuds/KnightDawn
Summary: “We're just peas in a pod, aren't we? You know. Peas in a pod. Stuck in the same boat? Two guys that... got captured.”In which Commander Gren and Runaan learn they have more in common than they thought. Being imprisoned together is just the beginning.Of what, neither is sure.





	1. Peas in a Pod

After years of working with General Amaya, Gren had gotten used to paying attention to details. Oh, he was never quite as good at noticing things as she was – her eyes were as keen as Pip's – but he was used to watching her motions for the subtle nuance in a gesture that marked a change in the tone of what she was saying.

 

And boy, did she love sarcasm.

 

Only in the absence of her presence did Gren realize how much he had come to rely on her – at least as much as she had relied on him, if not more so. She always had something to say, always commanded everyone's attention. He'd seldom needed to add anything to a conversation himself.

 

He'd been more than just her voice, though – in the field, he had also served as her ears. She was capable of reading a fight with just her eyes, but he was the one she relied on when it came to sound: everything from horns calling soldiers to action to a forest gone quiet in the presence of danger.

 

It was that kind of silence that filled Viren's lab now. The stone walls blocked any noise from the outside world, so the only sounds were those present in the caverns. Water dripped from the ceiling about once per minute. Sometimes, an eerie wind moaned in the darkness. At least once, Gren was sure the other prisoner was the one to groan in pain, his chains rattling.

 

The elf’s breathing was a soft, constant noise Gren had become aware of almost right away. The hoarse, ragged rasps and occasional pained coughs indicated at least one broken rib, but aside from that he made no noise at all. No sobs, no attempts to free himself.

 

To be fair, Gren had given up fighting his chains after the first hour. It was a waste of precious energy he needed to devote to other things – like figuring out how he was going to get out of this. Foolishly, he found himself thinking of Amaya again. She would know what to do, but she wasn't here.

 

 _"I_ _trust you. You have been my voice. Now I need you to be my hands and save the boys.”_

 

She trusted him, and he had failed her.

 

He cursed under his breath and let his head droop in shame. Mere moments later, the other prisoner coughed wetly, spat something out – probably blood, if Gren was right about the rib – and cursed in a foreign tongue. Elvish, he assumed.

 

Despite everything, Gren smiled a little. “We're just peas in a pod, aren't we?”

 

The elf's breathing paused for a moment, then gave a long, ragged sigh. He was probably exhausted, and it was very likely he didn't understand the phrase.

 

“You know. Peas in a pod. Stuck in the same boat? Two guys that... got captured.” There was another awkward moment of stillness, then Gren sighed and let his head fall back against the wall. “The general's going to be so pissed when she finds out. If...”

 

If Viren didn't get to her first.

 

Gren closed his eyes and bottled up all the pain that came with that train of thought. If the elf could sit in the darkness and not weep for his fallen comrades or his own inevitable fate, so could he.

 

*******

 

Humans were strange creatures. Runaan had grown up hearing the elders speak ill of them and their swiftly-changing moods, but he had never expected them to be so quick to trust.

 

Surely that was what the other prisoner had been aiming for with his talk of... peace in a pod?

 

He also found himself haunted by the hopeful look the young human prince had given him, holding up the egg as a peace offering. But it was always followed by the memory of being led away from the king's balcony through the tower's halls. Blood was splattered on the walls and pooled around the bodies – human and elf alike.

 

If they were in the same boat, it was sinking. Rayla would hate that metaphor. She had never trusted water. _“I like to keep my feet on the ground, Runaan.”_ A silly sentiment for someone that liked to leap about so much.

 

Runaan shuddered and coughed again, his chest aching something fierce. The king had caught him with a swift, unexpected kick to the side during their scuffle. Something was definitely broken. And yet, the pain was an almost welcome distraction from the burning numbness that was slowly spreading through his arm.

 

Somewhere out there, Rayla must be suffering as well.

 

Runaan tried not to think about her, or his friends, or the elf back home that was surely sick with grief by now, since none of their party had returned. It had been a risk they'd all been aware of, but... no.

 

He was dead, now. If the lack of food and drink didn't kill him, eventually his arm would fall off. Without proper treatment, he would bleed to death or the wound would fester and kill him. Runaan groaned. He had hoped to anger the mage enough to earn himself a swifter death, but the human had proven to have patience and stubbornness that rivaled Runaan's own.

 

Unlike the other prisoner.

 

He had gone quiet for a while, but was once again tugging at his chains now. Runaan could hear him groaning and cursing as he struggled, still muttering something about the boys he was supposed to save.

 

His desperation and devotion to his cause were frightening, in that they were far too easy to relate to. Runaan closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to drift back to happier days. Making snow elves, drinking warm tea, and being surrounded by the people he loved.

 

His life was over, but others would go on. Perhaps Rayla and the human princes would succeed at their fool's errand. Perhaps the other prisoner would escape and fulfill his duty. Perhaps he could even be convinced to free them both...

 

Perhaps days of refusing food and drink was finally taking its toll on him. Runaan cursed under his breath and shook his head, chains clinking against the wall.

 

He would not break so easily.

 

*******

 

_"You're a monster.”_

 

_“You're mistaken. I'm a pragmatist.”_

 

Whatever the human wanted to call himself, Runaan knew what he was. Vile. Abhorrent. The kind of monster the elders warned young elflings about when they misbehaved. They had fallen for his trap, been so focused on taking out the king that they had not thought to strike the man that stood in his shadow, behind him.

 

It was not a mistake Runaan would make again, but his time was running out. His arm burned. His gaze fell to the bag of coins, the faces he'd seen trapped within seared into his memory.

 

“Rayla... I am sorry.”

 

The words were whispered in the elven-tongue. A single tear ran down his bruised cheek. He had no strength left to wipe it away.

 

The mage would return soon. His fate was sealed. But no matter how many times Runaan told himself he was already dead, his heart continued to beat in frantic defiance.

 

He had not been prepared for this.

 

*******

 

Even though Gren pretended to be disinterested in talk that wasn't about food, he wondered what Viren had shown the elf before. His breathing was less steady now, prone to sudden quick bursts that betrayed his panic.

 

When he muttered something in Elvish, voice breaking, Gren felt a pang of sympathy for him. Maybe they didn't know the whole story.

 

Gren remembered the ease with which the boys had interacted with the elf girl. They hadn't seemed to be afraid of her. Callum had warned her about their presence. Why would he do that, if he could have simply told the general they had an uninvited guest?

 

It was Viren they should really be worried about. Gren had been sure of that the moment he'd been locked up, but the way he treated his prisoners was... terrible, really. Even the assassin didn't deserve – whatever was happening in the other room, with all the chanting and screams. Flashes of purple light cut through the darkness, and Gren shuddered as he thought about what the elf had told Viren.

 

“You've found something worse than death.”

 

Yeah. He definitely had.

 

*******

When he found himself alone in the darkness after Viren left, no longer kept company by the sound of the other prisoner's breathing, Gren thought about the first thing he had said to the elf.

 

“We're peas in a pod, aren't we?”

 

He'd rather be that than... than coins in a bag. He sighed and rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes.

 

_Drip... Drip... Drip... Creaaak._

 

Gren opened his eyes. Days of rotting in the dungeon had allowed his vision to fully adjust to the dark, and he finally noticed a crucial detail he had missed before.

 

There was rust on his chains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? I love both Runaan and Commander Gren already. We might not know a lot yet, but I think these two have more in common than just having been put in a dungeon for trying to do their jobs.
> 
> This is the first time I've decided to just wing it on a fic in a long time, but this show really inspired me to go for it!
> 
> Thanks for reading, reviews and feedback are always appreciated~
> 
> (Also, not directly related to the fic: I like the ship name Grunaan just fine, but how about Coinshipping? Anyone? And Gren/Amaya could be Voiceshipping! And Runaan/Necklace Elf: Necklaceshipping! No need to guess at his name just yet~)
> 
> EDIT: Hannah in the Discord pointed out that Amaya's line to Gren has been slightly mis-translated in the more popular posts on tumblr, so I have edited her line in my fic to match Hannah's translation: 'Now I need you to be my hands and save the boys.'
> 
> "Will" also worked, but "hands" has more of a personal meaning for Amaya.


	2. The Moon is Fortunate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I wasn't expecting so many kudos and comments on the first chapter, but I am very thrilled to have gotten so much feedback! I don't want to inflate my comment number too much, so I will be replying to questions and comments on my tumblr. [Here's the first batch!](https://dragonprinceknight.tumblr.com/post/178253164763/coins-in-a-bag-chapter-1-replies)

It had seemed like a boon at first, but as long hours of slow tugging and prying had proven, the rust was only a sign of weakness, not an instant-fix to Gren's problem. He was tired from nights without proper sleep or... well, _any_ food, actually. Originally he had hoped Viren would return to offer something, but after hearing what he'd done to the elf, Gren didn't trust anything given to him by that snake.

 

_"It may be a month from now, it may be a year, but he will stab you in the back.”_

 

He really should've heeded that warning. To be fair, though, Amaya had been way off on the time estimate. Viren hadn't even waited half an hour.

 

_Drip... Drip... Drip._

 

“If I was a mage,” Gren groaned, still tugging at the chain. “This would be _so_ much easier.” He'd worked with enough mages to know that steady drip of water would be enough to draw some power from. To be fair, that was likely the reason Viren had put Gren in these chains.

 

Because he wasn't a mage.

 

Viren probably wasn't even concerned about him. It was funny, really. Commander Gren was one of general Amaya's most trusted comrades-in-arms, but a lot of people thought he'd only risen to the rank of commander for the sake of convenience.

 

Gren didn't mind, though. Times like this reminded him just how convenient it was to be the man that walked in the shadow of someone greater than he was.

 

He grimaced, steeled himself, and gave one more sharp tug.

 

The first chain broke.

 

*******

 

He'd been timing everything so far – Viren disappeared for several hours in the night, presumably to sleep. The sound of the wind in the deep caves was the best guide Gren had to guess at the time. The air would shift and change as the sun rose and warmed the water on the lake and river.

 

Listening carefully for any hints of trouble, Gren searched the shelves and desks for the means to unlock his cuffs. In one of the drawers, he found a ring of keys and reached in to grab it quickly, then froze when his hand brushed up against something else: a small coin purse, surprisingly heavy for how empty it was.

 

Gren shuddered as he thought of the assassin’s fate.

 

As he tested the keys in his cuffs, Gren heard the sound of two soldiers approaching, their armor and heavy footsteps betraying them long before they came into view. Gren tucked the coin purse away and hid in the hall, thanking the stars it wasn't Viren paying him an early visit.

 

As soon as one of the soldiers turned the corner, Gren ambushed him – drawing one of the chains still bound to his wrists around the man's neck.

 

“C-Commander Gren?”

 

“Oh, it's you guys – ” Gren said, loosening the chain as he recognized the soldiers that had been with him when Amaya left. “Do you know how long I've been down here?”

 

“Three days.”

 

“Yeah. Exactly, You're _late_.” The soldiers shared a glance with each other, but Gren was already gathering up his chains and motioning for them to follow him down the hall. “Hurry up. We should leave before the wind shifts.”

 

*******

 

As the moon rose the night of their departure, Runaan had lingered in the garden, admiring the flowers he might never see again.

 

He smiled as he heard the quiet approach of a familiar presence and turned to face the other elf. Kouru was usually as calm and serene as the waters in their lotus pond, but tonight there was a nervous energy in the air around him. He shifted slightly in his stance, hands clasped behind his back as his gaze lingered on Runaan.

 

Perhaps he, too, wished to commit this moment to memory.

 

“I have something for you,” Kouru finally signed, smiling at Runaan. He reached into his pocket and stepped forward, taking one of Runaan's hands in his own. Runaan opened his hand, smiling as he looked at the necklace Kouru had placed there. “To protect you.”

 

“You made this,” Runaan signed, smiling as he did the motions. Kouru grinned and nodded, pointing to an identical amulet around his own neck. The grin soon faded, however, and was replaced with a worried expression.

 

“Be safe,” he signed. “Come back home.”

 

Runaan had known better than to make that promise, but he had hugged Kouru tight as he clasped the necklace, holding him close until the very last moment possible.

 

“The moon is fortunate,” he signed once he had pulled away, not hiding the tears that gleamed in the corners of his eyes. It was half of an old proverb – the moon is fortunate, to go and return. It was also a common parting between them, a way of skirting around saying  _goodbye_.

 

“And so are we,” Kouru finished, then gave Runaan a pat on the center of his chest and crossed his arms. No further communication needed to pass between them. They said the rest with their eyes.

 

Still, as Rayla scurried off ahead of him, Runaan turned to face their home one more time, his own hand placed over his heart.

 

“I love you.”

 

*******

 

He had meant to use the necklace on the way out, not the way in.

 

Rayla’s failure had cost them dearly, but Runaan had hoped leaving her behind would allow at least one of them to go home. How long would she have waited before making the long journey back? He didn’t want to think about it.

 

He had made an oath, years ago, that he would watch over her. When her parents had been chosen for the Dragon King’s guard, they had asked Runaan and Kouru to take care of Rayla for them. To be her guardians, while they fulfilled their own sacred duty.

 

Worrying about Rayla had cost him dearly, in the end.

 

The moment he accepted a job, he was supposed to focus only on the target. But his aim had not been true this time. He had wavered, because of Rayla. Even now, his soul screaming in the endless darkness, his thoughts kept filling with worry for her. For Kouru. For anyone else standing in the path of that vile human.

 

He was only vaguely aware of anything outside of the coin, his senses filled instead by the crackle of the magic that surrounded him. It was like drowning, forever. He didn’t need to breathe, but everything inside him ached for air.

 

He should already be dead, but death was beyond him here. And as he screamed in silence, he realized just how desperate he was to _live_.

 

Anything was better than giving in to the pull of the empty sea.

 

*******

 

“This guy is way heavier than he looks. I thought elves were supposed to be light?”

 

“You know, Commander, it might be easier for us to escape if we weren’t having to carry dead weight. Do we have to bring _him_ with us?”

 

Gren sighed, still rubbing his aching wrists as he cast a glance to the other soldiers, who were carrying the elf's blanket-clad body between them as they crept about the castle’s halls.

 

“Yes. You know how dark magic works, don’t you? I don’t think we should leave him for Viren to… do horrible things to.” Gren had no doubts that the mage would dissect and study the elf if he was left behind, whether he was dead or… something worse.

 

And so, they had taken his body with them. His gear had been tucked away haphazardly, and Gren had gathered that up, too.

 

One could never be too cautious.

 

The trek to the stables took longer than Gren had hoped it would. Dawn was breaking as they saddled up their horses. At least Gren’s horse had been well cared for during his little stay in the brig. Even so, she protested having to carry both Gren and the elf, but she had dealt with similar situations before.

 

On the front lines, there was no shortage of bodies to take care of.

 

With that thought in his mind as they set out, Gren turned to face one of the soldiers. “If you could get word to general Amaya of what Viren has done, I would be grateful. I’d join you, but… I have another promise to keep.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

At the first crossroads, their paths parted.

 

The soldiers took the most direct route that would bring them to the border. Gren broke off to follow the river, using it to help hide his tracks. The motions were drilled into him from years spent roaming the wilderness as a scout and soldier.

 

One could never be too cautious.

 

He stopped just before midday, when he found a small cave they could rest in. Its entrance was partially hidden in by the roots of an old tree. As he led his horse into the shelter, Gren hoped that would be good enough. There had been no signs of pursuit yet, but Gren was still wary.

 

Viren’s attention might be directed elsewhere, but that did not mean he was the kind of man that left loose ends hanging.

 

Despite having only slept in fitful bursts for three nights, Gren found himself unable to sleep. He frowned as he stared at where he had lain the elf’s body on the mossy ground beside him, his ashen face barely visible beneath the blanket. Eventually, curiosity got the best of him.

 

He tugged off one of his gloves and reached out, pressing his fingers against the elf’s neck. His skin was cold, but didn’t feel like a corpse.

 

Just when he was about to pull his hand away, he felt the faint flutter of a pulse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is now rushing headfirst into speculatory content, but I have a lot of ideas I'd like to explore. Beginning with some headcanons I have for "Kouru," which is the name the Dragon Prince 18+ Discord server has decided to dub the mystery necklace making elf from the end credit images until he is granted an official canon name. (Thanks to Trisha, who came up with the name! It means "lotus" in one of the languages of the Maori.)
> 
> Also, the theory that he's a sun elf is something I find very interesting (and is true, at least, in this story.) Basically, making stuff is kind of a "sun elf" thing, plus the design on his shirt and his markings resemble the sun elf shapes. And it might explain where Rayla learned so much about weapons made by sunfire elves...
> 
> I decided to make him deaf on a bit of a whim, mostly because of a children's book I loved as a kid called "Silent Lotus." Amaya is already wonderful representation for that community, but I like the idea of Runaan being close to someone deaf as well for several reasons.
> 
> Finally, I'd like to give a shout-out to the people from the server that have been beta-ing this story for me, especially Bumblebee and Kuponort! I appreciate the early feedback and typo catches.
> 
> Until next time~


	3. Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that left kudos and comments on the last chapter! [My replies can be found here~](https://dragonprinceknight.tumblr.com/post/178533945548/coins-in-a-bag-chapter-2-replies)

In the winter, time always seemed to slow down. The land itself went into a state of hibernation, as did many of the animals – everything from the tiniest field mice to the mightiest sky dragons. There was a reason the elves chose their greatest warriors to serve as the Dragon King’s protectors, the Cosantoir.

 

Even he needed to sleep.

 

Runaan remembered the pride that had swelled in his heart when his mentor, Aine, was chosen to become one of the Cosantoir. She had been his teacher since he was a child, but… she was more than that. She was family, having all but raised him since his own parents had died. However, when her partner was also chosen, a question remained: who would take care of their young daughter?

 

He had never expected them to come to him, but he would never forget the words they spoke as they tucked Rayla into his arms.

 

“You must be  _our_ Cosantoir. Watch over her, Runaan.”

 

“I will. I promise.”

 

_My breath for freedom. My eyes for truth. My strength for honor. My blood for justice. My heart for Xadia._

 

For ten years, they had served, only to falter when it mattered most. They were nowhere to be found after the humans took the life of the Dragon King and his precious egg.

 

Except the egg was alive, and it was one of the most beautiful things Runaan had ever seen – rivaled only by the moonlight on lake Iria and the gold gleam of the morning sun in Kouru’s eyes.

 

Those memories were the only thing keeping Runaan sane now. He had stopped trying to scream, but the void was still trying to suffocate him. Drown him. End him.

 

_My breath for freedom._

 

_My eyes for truth._

 

_My heart for..._

 

*******

 

Moonlight trickled in through the roots of the great tree. After discerning that the elf was still alive, Gren had drifted off. Now he was curled up on the cool, moss-covered ground. His horse gave a soft snort and munched on some grass that was growing by the entrance.

 

A sudden pang of hunger reminded him he hadn’t eaten in days.

 

Gren groaned and sat up, then slowly made his way over to the horse. He was glad to find that his saddlebags had not been messed with. He had enough rations to last several days, and they had never tasted so good.

 

“Mmm…”

 

As he licked his fingers clean, his gaze fell on his companion’s still form. If Gren wanted to keep him alive he probably needed to force him to eat, too.

 

What did elves even eat, though? Did they have dietary restrictions? Viren had only ever offered the guy fancy Xadian fruit, but… that didn’t really tell Gren anything.

 

He went over to his horse and tugged the gear he had taken from the dungeons out of one of the bags. Shirt, belt, gloves, quiver, bow… it seemed like everything the guards had confiscated was present. One of the belt pouches contained bottles filled with various liquids. Gren frowned as he examined them, then closed the pouch.

 

The last thing he needed to do was accidentally poison someone, but he had a feeling that was still the least of the elf’s worries at the moment.

 

He sighed and made his way over to the assassin’s body, tugging the blanket away so he could examine him more thoroughly. His state didn’t appear to have changed at all – he was still cold to touch, his skin splotched and ashy. If it weren’t for the feeble pulse and shallow breathing, Gren would have taken him for dead.

 

As he shook out the blanket, Gren noticed the strange binding that had been on the elf’s arm had fallen off. It glinted silvery-white in the moonlight as he picked it up and looked it over. He’d always thought elven handiwork was a marvel, though he’d rarely inspected it up close like this.

 

He tucked it away in his bag to ask the elf about later, if he ever woke up. Of course, Gren knew the likelihood of that happening was slim. Viren had used dark magic on him, and Gren didn’t even know if that was reversible.

 

Gren spent the next few minutes checking the assassin for any wounds that might need attention, but all he saw were old scars and bruises. With that taken care of, he also spent some time putting his shirt back on, then tucked the blanket back around his body. Now, it almost looked like he was only sleeping.

 

Gren settled in against the wall of the cave and took out the bag of coins. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to open it, but he needed to know what he was dealing with. When he loosened the tie and spilled the coins out into his palm, he grimaced.

 

Four faces stared back at him, in various states of despair. One belonged to the assassin. The other three were elves Gren did not recognize.

 

“Sorry,” he whispered, accompanying the word with its sign without really thinking about it. He was so used to working with Amaya, sometimes his hands moved by themselves. “I wish I knew how to help you.”

 

He slipped all but the assassin’s coin back into the bag, choosing to study that one closer when he noticed the elf’s face within had changed from despair to confusion, and now had a spark of something else. Hope?

 

Then, much to Gren’s surprise, the elf moved his hands to respond in kind.

 

*******

 

When the coins tumbled from the bag, Runaan was briefly blinded by a flash of moonlight, spilling through the roots of a tree. It was barely more than half-full, nearing the last quarter. And as the moon waned, so did his chances of surviving this.

 

He shut his eyes. _I am already dead._

 

When he opened them again, he found another face staring back. A human with pale, speckled skin and eyes the color of the summer sky. His lips were moving, but Runaan could still hear nothing but the roar of the void that surrounded him.

 

Except the human was also moving one of his hands. _Wish. Help. You._ His face was soft and sincere, his brow slightly crinkled with worry, and Runaan felt a spark of hope ignite within him.

 

Each motion showered him with pain, electricity prickling through his skin, but he forced himself to bear it. This might be his only chance, and he wasn’t going to let it slip away.

 

He wanted to live.

 

“You… want to help me? Please. Help.”

 

The way the human perked up reminded Runaan of a puppy that heard it was time to go outside. In any other circumstance, it would have been amusing.

 

“Help? Yes. Can do.” There was a pause, and the human's brow crinkled as he pondered something. Then he moved his hands again. “You need to eat. What’s food?”

 

Runaan wasn’t sure how to answer a question like that, but the human quickly moved into an explanation. He didn’t recognize all of the signs, but he caught enough to figure out the gist of the human’s story: he had been the other prisoner, but he had escaped. What's more, he had taken Runaan’s body with him – something he explained by simply holding the coin up so Runaan could see where his soul-less form lay, wrapped up in a dark blanket. Finally, the human showed him his bag and asked him the original question again.

 

This time, Runaan realized the human was asking what he could or could not eat. He had never expected a human to think about such things.

 

Despite everything, a small smile graced Runaan’s face.

 

“Moonberries,” he signed. “You know what those are, right? The red juice. I can drink that.”

 

*******

 

Though his chief duty in the military had been interpreting for Amaya, Gren had cared for injured soldiers before. On the front lines, Amaya didn’t always need her interpreter. They usually put him in the med tents when he wasn’t by her side, since he refused to carry a weapon.

 

_“Why’d a pacifist want to join the army, anyway?”_

 

As he shifted the elf’s head into a position where he could pour the juice into his mouth, he told himself it was no different than treating any other soldier. And the relief he felt when the drink went down and a bit of color returned to the elf’s face was _real_.

 

“You look a little better,” he signed, smiling at the coin.

 

The elf’s face within was still pained, but he seemed to smile back for a brief moment. “Thank you.”

 

“Do you have any idea how to fix... this?” Gren gestured to the coin.

 

The elf was still for a long time, but when he did move to answer, the Gren only understood the signs for “high” and “moon.”

 

High moon…?

 

Oh.

 

He needed to be closer to the moon. Of course. He was a moonshadow elf, so if anything could help him, it would be closer proximity to the source of his magic. It was a long shot, but it was still the best shot they had.

 

“Guess we’re going for a hike.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a little longer to finish than I thought it would, mostly because I've been sick on-and-off all week. (Maybe just fall allergies, idk.)
> 
> Anyway, a few notes about this chapter! Cosantoir is a Gaelic word for "defender, protector" but there are layers to it I thought were especially fitting. The root word is cosant, which can mean "shield" or "protect" but can also mean "cost." I like the implication that to become a Cosantoir, you must pay some kind of price. In the case of Rayla's parents, they had to let someone else raise their child.
> 
> Speaking of, I like the idea that Runaan was all-but raised by at least one of Rayla's parents. Him raising her brings that act full circle. (Also, pronunciation note: ["Aine" is pronounced like "Anya."](http://www.thinkbabynames.com/meaning/0/Aine))
> 
> More info has been released about the characters, among which was the fact that Gren is a pacifist and chooses not to carry a weapon. I still assume he knows how to fight, since soldiers are usually drilled in combat basics regardless of their personal philosophy.
> 
> Finally, I'm glad to make use of Gren and Runaan's shared knowledge of sign language here, though they do know two different dialects! Some nuance is lost between them, which I tried to show by having things be less fluid between them than it is when they're communicating with the people they know.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated~


	4. Like Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that left kudos and comments on the last chapter! [My replies can be found here~](https://dragonprinceknight.tumblr.com/post/179292744933/coins-in-a-bag-chapter-3-replies)

The mountains were still locked in winter-weather even though it was now mid-May and spring was in full bloom everywhere else. As Gren led his horse through the snow, he found himself wondering what spring was like in the elf-countries. The little glimpses he’d seen through the Breach had never looked beautiful, but… war had a way of making everything seem ugly.

 

Maybe he could ask the elf about his home later, provided this plan actually worked and the elf remained friendly after he was freed.

 

(Gren was hopeful, not naive.)

 

He shivered a little, wishing he had a cloak, and checked on the elf again. His companion was still swaddled in the blanket, both to keep him as warm as possible and to hide his elven features. A tiny bit of his silvery hair peeked out around his face, where the barest hint of steam also assured Gren he was still breathing.

 

“Very good.”

 

Gren sighed a bit as he reached out to tuck those strands of hair back under the blanket. Carrying a body like this was far from ideal, but their other options were limited and not suited for this terrain. So the elf laid in the saddle where the horse could help keep him warm while Gren walked and prayed he wouldn’t end up with frostbite.

 

Just as he was beginning to worry his ears would fall off, Gren came out of the snowy forest and found himself on top of a village. This one was probably an offshoot of the main trade route that led through the heart of Katolis. These mountains were known to contain magical flora and fauna, all of which was in high demand for use by human mages.

 

Gren wrinkled his nose, the motion only making him realize how numb his face was feeling. As he absentmindedly rubbed the underside of his nose, he spotted a little horned snowman by one of the houses and found himself laughing out loud.

 

It was wearing a scarf.

 

“I’ll bring it back,” Gren promised, taking the cloth to wrap around his own face. It was cold from the snow, but quickly warmed as Gren breathed into it. So good!

 

His horse sniffed at one of the carrots sticking out of the snowman’s head and proceeded to munch on it. Gren tilted his head, chuckled, and actually reached into his pocket to pull out the coin the elf was trapped in.

 

“It looks like you!” He signed, shifting enough to let the elf see his grin.

 

The elf looked like he needed some hot brown morning potion, but Gren saw a flicker of something in his expression. When he moved his hands, it was with exasperated flair. “Yes. Snow-elf. Make with...”

 

The elf hesitated, then used what Gren could only assume was a name-sign for someone. Gren raised his eyebrows a little, then repeated the motion. “Are they a friend?”

 

The elf had a hollow expression now. “Child,” he finally signed. “Girl that left with boys. Maybe here, not long ago.”

 

Gren found himself remembering the elf-girl that had been with the princes. The elf had used a general sign for child, so Gren assumed she wasn’t his daughter or niece. Apprentice, maybe? He didn’t want to assume, but he wasn’t sure how to ask. “Is she… family?”

 

The elf made a pained expression, then shook his head. No. “Too hard to explain relation to you,” he finally said. “Don’t know human way.”

 

“Maybe you can try later?” Gren asked, then sighed and frowned as his horse continued munching on the carrots. “We need to move again, so I’m putting you away.”

 

“Fine,” the elf did not look happy, but there was really no other choice.

 

Gren tucked the coin back in the pouch and tugged on the reins, guiding his horse around the little mountain village and toward the closest mountain.

 

*******

 

Family.

 

Runaan had few memories of the one he had been born to. His parents had died when he was quite young, but Aine had taken him in when he had nothing. She had cared for him when he was ill, tended his wounds, taught him to fight and move in silence.

 

He had thought he would never be able to repay her for her kindness, for giving him so much when he had so little to offer in return. For treating him as if he were her younger brother, even though he wasn’t.

 

That was the most important lesson Aine ever taught him: family was about bonds, not blood.

 

Aine was family. Rayla was family. Kouru was…

 

Kouru.

 

Four months ago, when the humans had attacked the Dragon King, Rayla had not taken the news well – especially since part of it was that her parents, who had been her legendary heroes, had forsaken their duty. Broken their sacred oath.

 

When whispers began that there would be retribution, Runaan had asked the elders to let her join the mission. She’d been so quiet and withdrawn, he had hoped giving her such an opportunity would bring her back from the brink of despair.

 

And Runaan had been right. Rayla was thrilled that the elders had chosen her. “I must be the youngest assassin ever chosen for something like this! Did you have somethin’ to do with this, Runaan?”

 

“No, why would you think that?” His voice had been teasing, and her face had split into a grin.

 

His gaze, however, had moved behind her. Kouru had been watching from a small distance, his arms crossed as he leaned against their garden wall. He was closing himself off to them.

 

And for the next four months, that had become normal. Kouru did not want them both to leave, did not think Runaan should have pushed the elders to choose Rayla.

 

“Would you prefer to have her stay here?”

 

“The decision is made, isn’t it?” Kouru had motioned, turning away from Runaan. Nothing had ever come between them like this choice had, but Runaan was stubborn.

 

_What is done is done._

 

*******

 

It took hours to climb the mountain, and as night fell again Gren couldn’t help but find the desolate landscape eerie. It was a different kind of quiet than he was used to. It was the kind of quiet that came after a battle, before the crows came to feast on the bodies.

 

Quiet like death.

 

“What happened here…?” He wondered aloud, voice low. He didn’t expect an answer.

 

“A storm, and then… bad stuff. Damn, Gren, what happened to you?”

 

The voice startled Gren initially, but he recognized it fast enough to relax before he turned to face Corvus, who was leaning on the roots of a fallen tree, grinning at him.

 

Gren smiled back and gave a little shrug, moving to stand between his friend and his horse. “Bad stuff. Have you had any luck tracking the boys?”

 

“Some. I almost caught the elf girl once, but…” he frowned, eyes narrowing a bit. “What’s that you’re trying to hide? A body?”

 

Gren really should have realized nothing would get past Corvus. “Actually, uh… yes. It is, in fact, a body. Not a dead one, though! Not yet, anyway. I… can explain?”

 

Corvus was just looking at him expectantly, one eyebrow raised.

 

“See, uh, when I was in prison…”

 

“Prison?” Both eyebrows were up now. “You? I find that hard to believe.”

 

Gren laughed, but it was without humor. He held up a hand. “Okay. Fair. When Viren put me in prison…”

 

“That, I can believe.”

 

“...I met a guy. Sort of. Not like, face-to-face… and he wasn’t very talkative, either. But they were torturing him in the other room and I couldn’t leave him there, so… when I escaped I took him with me. Er, what’s left of him, anyway. It’s complicated?”

 

Corvus moved closer, frowning with concern. “I have some stuff that might help him. Let me have a look.”

 

“No!” The word was out of Gren’s mouth before he could stop it, panic rising up in his chest. If Corvus saw the elf… he’d kill him. “Please, don’t look. It’s bad.”

 

Corvus only hesitated for a moment in his approach, quickly moving to stand beside Gren and place a hand on each of his shoulders. “Gren. I can’t help you if you don’t _let_ me help you. It can’t be worse than what I’ve seen at the front.”

 

Before Gren could stop him, Corvus reached out and tugged on the blanket.

 

Tangled locks of silver-white hair spilled out against the flank of Gren’s horse, glistening in the light of the moon. For a moment, everything was frozen. Gren followed Corvus’s wide-eyed gaze to the elf’s face. His pale lashes fluttered, but otherwise he still looked like death could come to claim him any second. The horse shook out its mane.

 

Corvus broke the silence.

 

“Okay, Gren. _Explain_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took much longer than I intended, whoops. I've been sick all month and was still attempting to juggle this and Inktober, but this past week I wound up resting and drinking a lot of tea and soup.
> 
> Thank you for bearing with me!
> 
> Some notes for this chapter:
> 
> I did research on carrying bodies on horseback for this fic. In all honesty? This would not be good for Runaan at all if this wasn't a fic. Don't transport bodies like this.
> 
> A big shout-out to Hannah from the Dragon Prince 18+ Discord, who made a couple posts about the representation of deaf-ness in TDP and answered some questions I had that definitely helped me with this fic. (You can find the posts [here](http://redemptiionss.tumblr.com/post/178616976699/tdps-portrayal-of-deafness-deaf-culture-through) and [here](http://redemptiionss.tumblr.com/post/178616996344/tdps-portrayal-of-deafness-deaf-culture-through)!) It's thanks to her that I included the bit about name-signs, which is something I didn't know about before reading her stuff. 
> 
> Runaan is being stubborn, but in his heart Rayla is family. (Also, Kouru shows worry much like one of my cats: by fretting in silence while just barely in your sight.)
> 
> Finally, Corvus... was a surprise, even to me. At least his presence will mean more talking will happen in the next chapter! xD
> 
> Until next time~


End file.
